


contemplation

by guan_lupe



Series: do you want to make a contract? [4]
Category: Cats (2019), Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guan_lupe/pseuds/guan_lupe
Summary: macavity wants to make a contract with mr mistoffeleeshuman!cats in victorian londonUPDATE 07/18/2019: OH WELL I NEVER, WHAT THE HELL, THERE'S A MAJOR FILM COMING OUT AND IT LOOKS CRAZY BAD BUT IT COULD BE GOOD IDKhttps://youtu.be/E7hzYuWNIEk





	contemplation

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the rebel hosts, the one least burdensome to Me is, by far, the rogue Mephistopheles.
> 
> Der Herr, from _Faust_ (1808)   
>  by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Master, there's someone at the door you should really see."

Mistoffelees is looking through his library in the back of his shop when Kaspar, his assistant, makes the declaration.

"Lad, you say that as though Mr. Herbert George Wells were someone extraordinary," says Mistoffelees, half-grinning. He's searching though the M's for Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, wondering why it hadn't been in the P's. "You can tell that alien-obsessed nominalist he can wait a moment more-"

"No, this is someone who is neither Mr. Wells, nor Mr. Russell, nor even Mr. Bernard Shaw."

"Is it Mr. Chesterton?" Mistoffelees eyes twinkle as he looks to Kaspar. His face immediately falls.

His assistant wears concerned expression.

"It's Mr. Aleister Crowley, isn't it?" The Conjuring Cat's hands roll into frustrated fists. "That thief. I won't hold back my tongue this time! I swear it."

"It's Macavity, Master Mistoffelees." Kaspar bites his lip as though he'd have sworn.

Mistoffelees has found Pico della Mirandola. He strokes the spine of one of the tomes.

"Master?"

"Yes." Mistoffelees clears his throat. With a shaky hand he wishes he could control more, he picks out the tome and hands it to his assistant. "Why don't you go back to my study and look over the sections on the immortality of the soul, and let me know how it may relate to the use of mirrors?"

"Mirrors?"

"Yes. Do we ever really see our true selves in our reflection? Go on. I'll have some tea or perhaps even a cap with the old Mystery Cat. I'll call if I need anything."

Kaspar offers a sympathetic glance, and then does as he's told. Mistoffelees strolls out from his library.

There stands Macavity, dressed ostentatiously, his occult tattoos peeking out from his sleeves and up along his neck. He grins a crooked grin at Mistoffelees.

"It's been some time," says Macavity.

Mistoffelees never fails to be rattled by him. "That hasn't quite been a problem for me, Mr. Macavity, if you'll pardon my rudeness."

"I hardly ever expect much besides rudeness from you, sir." Macavity says it in good humor. "This time I'd like to make a contract."

"Tea?"

"Fine. Black, and very sweet."

Mistoffelees can't help but direct a little of the evil eye toward Macavity's sunken-in ones. The latter merely deflects it, baring a fang.

Once Mistoffelees serves Macavity tea, they sit together in the corner of the shop, where Mistoffelees usually attends guests. He offers Macavity matches for his pipe, and declines to share the tobacco the Mystery Cat offers.

"Wipe my memory," requests Macavity. "Do the opposite of Faust." He waves the hand holding the pipe, so the smoke swirls in the air. "Where I have knowledge, let me forget it. What's the price for that?"

Mistoffelees' jaw twitches.

"Seems like it's to let you claw my face off," says the Mystery Cat, chuckling.

"It's actually simple." Mistoffelees stirs his Ceylon. "Though I do wish it were to turn you into some mangy feline who gets plastered by a cab and lays dying on the road somewhere by Leicester Square where thousands would pass you and merely pity your slow descent into death and Hell."

Macavity exhales smoke. "How much do you charge for ideas for methods of torture? But, more importantly: what's the price for my wish?"

"Merely to beg forgiveness and accept whatever that may bring," says Mistoffelees. He thinks on his poor Aunt Demeter, and his cousins.

"No, kitten," growls Macavity. "I want a way that's not begging like a dog."

"I'm afraid there's no other way," says Mistoffelees.

"There is. I'll pay."

Mistoffelees scowls. He can see Kaspar spying with intense curiosity. He looks down at his cup, then back up at the miserable Macavity, the rapist of his aunt, the illegitimate father of his sibling-cousins Etcetera, Electra, Jemima, Alonzo, Pouncival, Plato and Tumblebrutus. Seven kittens right out of a hat.

"Your depravity sinks ever deeper," he tells Macavity. "Do you want to sell your soul for the impossible? Eventually, it will come back. Don't you care about-"

"I don't believe in it," assures Macavity before Mistoffelees may finish.

"Don't lie." Mistoffelees shifts in his seat. "You can't believe in my abilities if you don't believe in the supernatural. You must believe in retribution."

"Not for all time," says Macavity. He gazes at Mistoffelees with sincerity. "I'm willing to endure torture till all is finished and even the most depraved creeping creatures of this earth and below may be restored."

The two men stare at one another for a long moment.

"Mr. Kaspar," Mistoffelees calls to his protégé, "go look for the works by Chrysippus, and stay in my study."

Kaspar jumps as though electrocuted. He runs off, back into the library.

"Tempting, isn't it?" Macavity tsk's. "It would test your magic's strength and increase your power if you succeed."

"You are called, according to the popular doctors of these days, a 'psychopath,'" Mistoffelees remarks, tiredly. "Did you know?"

Macavity drops his tobacco ash and dottle into the little liquid that's left in his cup. He doesn't reply except to say:

"Will you do it, for the right price? I'll return in three days."

The Mystery Cat rises, bows his head and leaves Mistoffelees alone in the front parlor, gazing at the autumn London rain outside the shop's front windows.

The following day, Mistoffelees calls on his good friend, Rum Tum Tugger. He goes to see him at the auto-repair shop where Tugger works. His relationship with the Curious Cat has always been tension-filled, since they argue down to the very threads of every topic they entertain, and frustrate each other to their wits' end. However, Mistoffelees must admit, Tugger has taught him a thing or two about tenacity. He'd also like to think Tugger's learned from him something of responsibility (as it's the basis of all proper magic).

Speaking to Rum Tum about Macavity always makes the Curious Cat's hair stand. He adopts a frown as though he'd eaten something awfully rancid. It's his sister-in-law who was victim to Macavity. Munkustrap and Tugger are brothers, having kindly taken Mistoffelees and Victoria, sibling orphans, under their cat-wings until they were mature enough to be on their own. Victoria, in fact, happily married Plato only a year before and is currently expecting. 

(Mistoffelees has no interest in marriage. He fancies that he's married to his books and work. He is, however, happy to direct Kaspar toward lovely girl-kittens; he's patient when his protégé needs support or advice.)

"Imagine, for a moment, that you weren't bound to this notion of granting anyone's wish," Tugger asks Mistoffelees. He's comparing a large shipment of tires that have just come in from Leeds.

"I have," replies Mistoffelees, wrinkling his nose at the smell of rubber.

"But you - being who you are - must 'do it,' no?" Tugger smirks. "What demons would haunt Le Chat Noir's dreams if he didn't try!"

"No, that's you, Mr. Tugger," corrects Mistoffelees, pointing with just enough decorum so as not to seem accusatory. "I don't reckon myself to have reached some kind of enlightenment wherein I've sacrificed the right to refuse."

"Then, what's your worry?"

"Why, the obvious! Why would the wretch want to forget his memories?"

Tugger rolls his eyes. He writes down some information about the shipment.

"You're still naïve, for all your learnings. Macavity was once a Jellicle." He chuckles. "Mr. Mistoffelees, did you really think he only wants to wipe the memories of his crimes? Don't say."

Mistoffelees experiences something of what would now be called an existential crisis.

Tugger rolls a wheel out before Mistoffelees.

"Think on the automobile, this brilliant example of modernity," he says. "It's attractive. It's fun. It's completely unnecessary. It'll ultimately do more harm than good. We've learned this, being Jellicles. Yet we still roll along and accept it as an inevitable result of industrialization. We've chosen the path of social norms. But, aren't we betraying our Name, sir? Aren't we becoming complacent with only one life instead of nine?

"Now, imagine what Macavity must have been like before he completely turned his back on his Name." Tugger raises his brows. "I may be capricious, vain and insufferably stubborn; but I know enough to keep my Name. Macavity will, look;" he kicks the wheel so that it rolls in a straight line until it loses momentum, spins on its axis and finally drops onto its side; "eventually run out of force. He knows it. When that wheel stops spinning, he'll no longer have a Name. That is what he wants to forget."

After a moment of contemplation, Mistoffeless remarks, "I assumed he wanted the power to keep spinning along without ever stopping. Wait a moment, Mr. Tugger! Since when did you become so wise with wheels? Have you been playing cards with old Skimble?"

Tugger rolls his eyes. "Yes. I've also dated a few witches' familiars in my time, chap. You're not the only clever one, though perhaps you may be the cleverest. Still, what do you think?"

"I think Deuteronomy would have had the answer," confesses Mistoffelees, listlessly.

Tugger shrugs. "Nine lives. It was his time. Now, what do you think of Macavity?"

"Is he on his ninth?" asks the Conjuring Cat.

Tugger winks. "There's no doing anything about it."

The following day Mistoffelees decides to visit Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.

"This better be important, my sis'll beat me silly for inviting you in before she's had the chance to clean." Mungojerrie wrinkles his nose. "In all fairness, Mr. Magician, she'd prolly be right. You'll have to excuse the mess. Though I don't think it's that bad. We all have our foibles, no?"

This foible happened to be a habit of these siblings to store and collect various artifacts they pick up wherever they go - which is to many places around the city and the country. Mistoffelees must hold back his shock upon seeing the sitting room, in which there's hardly any room at all to maneuver around much less sit.

"Make yourself at home!" quips Mungojerrie. "Teazer, you're gonna be pleased! The grand ol' Mister Mistoffelees is paying us a visit."

Rumpleteazer comes out of the kitchen furiously.

Fifteen minutes later, Mistoffelees, Mungojerrie and Rumpleateazer are sitting to a late afternoon tea. The manner in which they're sitting is rather odd. For there are no unoccupied chairs. And so they make do with sitting upon filled-up cardboard boxes.

"Upon all your travelings Mr. Jerrie and Ms. - em;" Mistoffelees pauses, crumpet in hand; "pardon, may I call you Ms. Teazer?"

"Don't tease 'er, sure!" Mungojerrie sniggers.

Rumpleteazer neatly boxes Mungojerrie's ears. It gives Mistoffelees enough time to finish his crumpet. He watches the siblings' fight with a particularly feline curiosity.

"You were saying?" Rumpleteazer says to Mistoffelees. Mungojerrie whines in pain.

"Right." Mistofelees shifts upon his box, uncomfortable. "In all your travelings, has there been anything you've regretted stealing, if I may be so bold?"

"Why, Mister Misto!" Mungojerrie exclaims. He waves a jam knife in offense. "I wouldn't call what we do stealing!"

"'S right, we have to survive," argues Rumpleteazer.

"Please, forgive me." Mistoffelees hides his blush while pretending to rub his forehead with the back of his hand.

"But what was you askin' for?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

Mistoffelees decides to be honest. "To be frank, I've run into a bit of trouble-"

"Well, you've come to the right pair!" Mungojerrie's tone seems excited and relieved.

"What's you willin' to trade?" asks Rumpleteazer, curiously.

Mistoffelees sighs again. He's quite mortified, and takes to stroking his coattails in order to calm his upset nerves.

"Oh, we forget." Rumpleteazer gives her brother a knowing look, and rolls her eyes. "You're the thinkin' type."

"Yeah, your trade's in data, innit?"

Mistoffelees scratches the whiskers beneath his chin. "That isn't false. Knowledge is valuable."

"Well, all right." Mungojerrie gestures in a manner meant to denote fairness between civilized people. "Maybe you can tell us the reasons you're wantin' to know certain data. Then maybe we could help."

Out of courtesy and also to maintain his sanity, Mistoffelees ignores the fact that their conversation has just gone around in a circle.

"As I was saying, the trouble I'm in involves one Mr. Macavity-"

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer erupt with a series of expletives describing Macavity.

"Accurate terms, my dear sir and lady!" Mistoffelees exclaims, in order to stop them.

The man is completely overwhelmed. He decides to be impolite. "Mr. Macavity wishes me to erase his memory. I want to know if you'd like to return any stolen item back to its rightful owner so as to grant me more magical strength to grant this wish."

After a long pause, Mungojerrie says, "well, why didn't you say so?"

"Yeah?"

"Forgive me," says Mistoffelees, defeated.

Rumpleteazer shakes her head definitively. "Afraid there ain't nothin' we regret takin'."

"Yeah, mate, like she said;" Mungojerrie shrugs; "we ain't technically stolen nuffin."

Mistoffelees ends his day in Hyde Park, sitting quietly, contemplating the squirrels. What strange creatures they are, between rats and cats.

"I've crossed the path of a black cat," says a deep, feminine voice. Into the pool of lamplight walks Bombalurina. "Can we call it good luck if it's like that?"

Mistoffelees smiles, and makes room for her on his bench.

"What's got you so blue, sir?" Bombalurina asks, pulling close her fur coat, and crossing a panty-hosed leg out of habit. 

Mistoffelees explains his situation to what might as well be his aunt (Tugger's favorite lover).

"And what about that handsome little fellow who assists you?" asks the Bombastic Cat. She adjusts her eyeliner in her compact mirror. "You might be too affected by the Mystery Animal. Your young friend may not."

She closes up the compact and looks very seriously at Mistoffelees. "Now, don't you dare ever refer to me as a Cougar, Mr. Mistoffelees."

The same night, Mistoffelees rushes back to his shop to find Kaspar closing it up.

"Thank Sekhmet! Tell me what you learned of mirrors."

When Macavity arrives the next day, he comes expecting Mistoffelees to have conjured up a solution. Surely enough, Mistoffelees wears an anticipatory expression when allowing the Mystery Cat to enter his back room.

"What should I know about this?" Macavity whispers.

"That you'll never be the same," replies Mistoffelees, not looking at him.

Clearing his throat, he puts Macavity's situation into the hands of Kaspar, who has spent the night working on a magical formula with a large cabinet.

Kaspar explains, "If you'd enter into this cabinet, Mr. Macavity and wait inside for an hour, your wish will be granted."

Macavity stares at the young man.

"The price is the time spent, Mr. Macavity," Mistoffelees says in a low voice. "Nothing more, nothing less."

He finally sets his light eyes on Macavity, which causes the latter to shudder.

By the time an hour's gone by, Mistoffelees and Kaspar have gone through three pots of tea. The Conjuring Cat's even sent Kaspar to buy some pipe tobacco, which Mistoffelees smokes morosely. Just as the hour is about to finish, the shop door opens and in enters Mr. Herbert George Wells.

Mistoffelees doesn't believe in coincidences. He sends Kaspar to receive Mr. Wells and explain the situation, and to invite him to the back room if he be interested.

"This is quite a situation," says the writer to a contemplative Mistoffelees.

He regards the cabinet.

"Yes," says Mistoffelees, standing. "If you'll do the honors, sir, I believe that a number of your theories may be proven correct if you open that cabinet and witness the results of the experiment."

"Well, that leaves me no choice, Mr. Mistoffelees." Mr. Wells rubs his hands.

"Would you like a brandy, Mr. Wells?" Mistoffelees gestures to Kaspar to pour some before Mr. Wells can object.

"Though my writings feature some terrifying things, I myself am, admittedly, faint-hearted," confesses Mr. Wells. He swigs down his brandy.

"I can assure you, with almost utmost certainty, that what you'll find in the cabinet will not be shocking," says Mistoffelees.

Herbert George Wells, with admirable bravado, in front of Mistoffelees and Kaspar, opens the door of the cabinet. There is nothing inside. What is very striking is that the cabinet is illuminated by a faint light, and that its four walls, its ceiling and its floor are covered entirely by mirrors.

"Er." Mr. Wells frowns.

Kaspar looks to Mistoffelees, who explains, "The man who entered wished to forget his identity. When faced with infinite reflections, he chose another identity. His Name changed. Therefore, he no longer exists in this world."

Mr. Wells has paled.

"Then, where did he go? Mr. Mistoffelees?" He looks around desperately.

"You tell the story, good sir," replies Mistoffelees, grinning between his pipe. He looks to Kaspar and winks at the Jellicle.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 _When you notice a Cat in profound meditation,_  
the _reason, I tell you, is always the same:  
__his_ _mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation_

_of the thought of his Name._

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

**Author's Note:**

> [Ricky Ubeda](https://www.instagram.com/rickyubeda11/), though he's not British, is my favorite Mistoffelees.


End file.
